Bloodlines
by mermaidstear
Summary: Nora is a vampire that was captured by the Augustine Society in 1949. She bonds with Enzo and Damon, who live in the cells opposite her. After Damon escapes, leaving Enzo and Nora behind, they work to get out again. When both survive to present day, Damon is in for a shock. Enzo/OC
1. Chapter 1

**Hey! This idea started bugging me a couple of days ago until I finally gave in to writing it. I hope you like it. Please tell me what you think! I only own Nora.**

They say that if you're ever in what seems to be a hopeless situation, that's exactly what you're not supposed to do; lose hope. Find a point to focus on and keep it in view. Sometimes this point can be a variety of things but to most, it is a person. And lately, I've not even had that much.

It's been a week, maybe two, since I was brought in by Dr. Whitmore. The year is 1949, coincidentally my 300th year as a vampire. I was caught in Jamestown after an historical society meeting (which I am completely invaluable to as I was born, raised, and turned in the Jamestown colony). I'd made a point to look nice, wearing an evening dress and pulling up my dark blonde hair. The dress is now ruined. My hair is now tangled, falling between my shoulder blades.

Over the last few days, I've pondered what I could have done differently that night. Not feed in the alley? Not drink so much champagne that I let my guard down? Wear more sensible shoes?

I've got the unfortunate feeling that none of that would have made a difference.

I had been hunted. These people had sought me out, they knew what I was and where I was going to be, and judging by the amount of vervain they pumped into my neck, they knew I was old.

The first day here, I woke up before the Augustines wanted me to. As I was being carried into a scientific lab, I opened my darkening eyes and flashed my fangs. I wrapped my fingers around the throat of one of the doctors and threw him across the room. Then I broke another's wrist when he tried to vervain me. My success didn't last long because Dr. Whitmore, the head of this ridiculous organization, stuck a syringe into my arm. The vervain was so strong that I passed out again.

When I woke up, I was strapped to a table, unable to move. I jerked at the straps. If I had been at full strength, I would've shredded them.

"There's no point, 20574." A man in a white lab coat turned to face me. I could see tools laid out on a table behind him, all of them silver and all of them some form of weapon.

"What?" I remember groaning.

"You can struggle all you wish but you're not getting out of here. We've learned our lesson." I assume they have. I've spent the time since then too weak to move on my own. Doctors come to my cell, pick me up, move me around, take me back, and throw me on the ground. My first night here I just stayed prostrate on the floor, unable to do anything but lay there.

"What is this place?" I pulled at the straps again. I couldn't see them all but I felt them around my legs, wrists, hips, and across my shoulders. I knew then as I know now that getting out of this situation won't be easy. In fact, if they keep drugging me, I'll likely never get a leg up on them.

"You're part of an experiment for the Augustine Society, 20574." I think I rumpled my brow in confusion.

"What sort of experiment?"

"Well, you see, I'm a doctor and the research I'm planning on conducting on you is going to help the human race." I've met a lot of crazy people in my long life on this earth but so far, Dr. Whitmore is in the running for number one. "You vampires heal so fast that it's hard to believe anything ever happened to you. I plan on figuring out how that works."

He made the mistake of catching my eye and I took the chance to compel him. "As fascinating as all that sounds, you've made a mistake. I'm not the one you want so you're going to let me go." In response, Dr. Whitmore only laughed.

"That's a good one," he replied, "but I'm wearing vervain, as are all of the humans who work here. But as I was saying, your blood regenerates, not only itself but it heals others."

"And you just want to take my blood to heal humans?"

"Oh no. I want to know exactly how it works." He had said it so sinisterly that I knew what he was going to do to me long before he did it.

The first day wasn't that bad, all things considered. My navy evening dress had the middle torn practically in half and there was a slit to the top of my thigh that hadn't been there originally so my humiliation trumped my pain. But the pain was still awful. I can barely recall what happened in my first few hours in the lab but I know I screamed the entire time. Let me put it this way, they made sure to drug me again because Dr. Whitmore thought I might have bled out the majority of the vervain he'd administered earlier.

I was so groggy after that that I couldn't walk on my own. I was brought into the basement with my arms draped around two men and my feet dragging against the ground. Then I was cast onto the floor of a cell and locked inside. After that, I must have passed out again or otherwise, I just stared at the ceiling until I fell asleep.

My second day, I was coherent enough to discover that my cell faced another. I think there are four down here, each pair facing the other. I turned onto my side, looked into the cell across from mine, and saw a man. He was looking back at me, probably had been all night. I barely had the chance to recognize that there was someone else in here with me before Dr. Whitmore came and retrieved him. "No, no, no," I muttered. Minutes later, I heard yelling and I knew that whatever was happening to my cellmate was worse than what had happened to me.

I spent the next few hours contemplating ways to get out of this place and came up completely short. I pulled at the bars, I tried to break the lock on the door, I did everything I could think of but I was far too weak. Finally I just sat down and covered my face with my hands.

I've done a lot of bad things in my life. I've killed innocent people. I've threatened them, stolen from them. But do I deserve this? Am I so irredeemable that I should be locked up and tortured? In the time that I've been here, I can't say I agree with that.

Once I heard the screaming stop, it wasn't long before Dr. Whitmore brought the man back down. I eagerly looked through the bars, my hands wrapped around them, and watched him be locked in.

"You're up, 20574." Dr. Whitmore had turned toward me and I only shook my head.

"Are you saying I wasn't enough for you?" the vampire in the cell said. He's got an accent. "I'm ready to go again." I looked at the guy like he was insane before realizing he was trying to help me.

"Oh, you'll get your turn again tomorrow, 12144."

"Why do you call us numbers?" I asked. "Is it to make you feel better about cutting into us or are you just bad with names?" I saw a smirk stretch across the face of my cellmate.

"Tread lightly, 20574." I recall staring at Dr. Whitmore standing in front of my cell, ready to snap his neck. "If you learn to behave, I won't have to keep doing this." It was lightning fast. He grabbed my hand through the bars and injected a syringe of vervain. I clenched my teeth together in pain and I immediately weakened, though not enough to knock me out.

He unlocked the door, manacled my wrists, and pulled me out of the cell. I wasn't much for a fight then and I'm definitely not now. I let him walk me into the lab without even a complaint. I hadn't been here twenty-four hours and I felt like I had already given up.

That day, Dr. Whitmore told me his name, split open my forearm, and broke my leg. That day, I also yelled until I was hoarse.

"Is there any correlation between age and healing factor?" he asked, running a scalpel along my lower stomach.

"I don't know. You tell me," I replied, my breath hitching.

"If you care to know, I am aware of your name, 20574. It's Nora Darby. And most estimates put you at close to 300 years old." Those estimates would be right.

"And how do you know all that?"

"Vampires seem to be naturally arrogant but those that go into history have to have a particularly potent form of it. They always give themselves away. Giving far too accurate corrections, saying something that no amount of physical evidence can back up, speaking as though they were there. All are mistakes you've made, 20574." I'm guilty of everything he listed off and I can't deny it, especially the arrogance. "Maybe while you're here, you can do some thinking about how to change your approach."

When I was put back in my cell that night, the guards that brought me back down threw me a ball of clothes and gave me a pair of boots. The guy in the cell across from me watched incredulously.

"What are you waiting for, 20574?" one of the guards asked. I hugged the bundle of clothes to my stomach. No way. There was no way I was going to change in front of them.

"Are you serious?" I responded. They only laughed. The dress I had on when I was brought in had been torn to tatters. If I didn't change in front of them soon, it wasn't going to matter. I was close to nude anyway. So I did it. I faced the wall, crumpled my expensive navy dress, and got dressed in cargo pants, a white shirt, and combat boots.

They were careful not to get close to me when they grabbed my dress. I quickly hid my right hand in a pocket. They might want to confiscate everything that I came in with and I could not give up my daylight ring. I worked hard for that thing. I spent a century in the dark before getting my ring and I am never going to experience that again. But they didn't ask for it, even though Dr. Whitmore has seen it every time he's seen me.

I spared a glance across the hallway and saw that the other vampire wasn't looking at me. I admired him for it. If the view of the Augustine Society is that all vampires are ruthless monsters, unworthy of pity, it is one that is wrong.

The guards left and one of them winked at me. I've decided that I'm going to kill him first.

"That _was_ a beautiful dress," my fellow captive said.

"Well, I paid a lot of money for it so it should have been," I responded. He moved to his bars, leaning up against them so that I saw him better. He's good looking and appears charming.

"I meant to give you the welcome speech yesterday but you passed out before I got the chance. You must've done something to really piss them off."

"Yeah, I guess you could say that." I put my hands through the bars, linking my fingers together.

"It might be best for you to lay low. You'll get weaker anyway. There's no point in speeding up the process." I figured he would know.

"How long have you been in here?"

"When I was on tour in Europe, I slipped up. Dr. Whitmore was travelling to different camps and found out what I was. He drugged me and sent me back here."

"You've been here for _years_?" I was in disbelief. If he's been since World War II, there is no hope for us. Unfortunately, nothing has changed on that front.

"Regrettably. I'm Enzo."

"Nora."

In the days (or weeks) that I've been here, Enzo has been the only light spot. I like him and he was right. Not laying low when I first got here has cost me a lot of agency. For the first few days, I was given no blood and kept heavily vervained. But now they've got me where they want me; too weak to fight or even protest anything verbally. Judging by the fact that Enzo has been in here for at least four years, I doubt that I'm going to get out any time soon. I use the time I have where I'm not being tortured to contemplate killing everyone working in Augustine.

That serves as a point of hope, right?


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey y'all! Thanks so much for all the favorites and follows! I really appreciate it! Please let me know what you think! And as usual, I only own Nora.**

I was turned at the ripe age of 24, a spinster by 17th century terms. I was shot in the gut by my maker in the middle of a scuffle outside a tavern of all places. It was an excruciating death. Word in the armies and militias of the time was that a bullet to the stomach meant you were as good as dead. There was nothing doctors could do for you (except make it worse in most cases). It takes hours and it is painful. But it is nothing compared to what I have been experiencing in the Augustine Society.

At least after the hours of bleeding out were over, I woke up under the impression that it would never happen again. But here I go through things much worse than a gut shot then I slowly heal and they start it all over. I don't know what's worse; knowing it's coming or enduring it. Every night I'm forced to think about what could be next. Maybe tomorrow he'll want my kidney. The day after might be my eyes. What about my feet? He's not done anything to them yet so it's only a matter of time.

We follow a pretty formulaic schedule. In the morning, either Enzo or I are retrieved for the day (sometimes both of us go, which are the worst days). Whoever's got it off just mopes around or at least, that's what I do. I'm not sure what Enzo does with his free time. We're brought back later and given a little plastic cup of blood. And I do mean little. I mean tiny. I mean I've had shots of whiskey larger than this. After that, the day is over and Enzo and I basically just talk. I find that I really look forward to it and not just because it's a break from being opened up with different medical instruments.

It's been two months since I first got here and ironically enough, I think I've made a real friend.

Even though I've been around for centuries, I can't say that I've ever really bonded with someone other than the vampire who turned me (which was a shaky friendship to say the least). It's not for lack of trying. Well, maybe it is. Friendships with humans are only temporary and they can't last very long for obvious reasons and other vampires… The problem with other vampires is just that I've never found one I can genuinely say I like.

My maker called me cold, only concerned with my own self-interest. He told me the reason I had no one was because I didn't let others in. He said one day I would come to regret only looking out for myself. Unfortunately, I think there's something to that. If I had actual friends, people I trust, there's a possibility I wouldn't have ended up here.

I assume Dr. Whitmore has been taking lone vampires, ones that nobody will come looking for. That puts Enzo and I squarely on the same side. So at first, I clung to the idea that if either of us is getting out of here, we have to trust each other and that won't happen until we're friends. Now, after months of living in a dirty cell, I've pretty much given up hope of escaping but I haven't given up on becoming friends.

Enzo manages to remain charming and alluring despite the circumstances. He's funny, flirtatious, and utterly fascinating. Most nights I just lay on the ground and stare at him while we talk. I feel like if I'm not looking at him, I'm completely missing out on the best part of the conversation.

We steer clear of too much mention of our pasts. I know he's British and younger than I am. He knows I'm American (well, originally a colonist) and that I was caught outside of the historical society. In the beginning, we just talked about revenge but now we talk about anything. It's strange because I find myself relaxing and telling him things I wouldn't normally. If I don't watch it, I actually start enjoying myself.

Tonight, he starts off with, "You got any hobbies, Nora?" I turn to lay on my side, head propped up by my arm. "You know, dancing, painting, the like."

"I like music, singing," I respond without thinking. I see Enzo make a face. He's standing and looking over at me through his cell bars. He's got more energy than I do.

"You can sing? Let's hear it." Enzo always speaks as though he's clenching his teeth and I find that I really like it.

I shake my head. "Oh, I'm not good. It's more of a private pleasure."

"You just keep disappointing me, Nora." I smile. "When you first showed up, I thought this was going to be great. I finally get some company and entertainment but you just deny me at every turn."

"I didn't see 'entertainer' on the form I signed when I got here."

"Well, one day I'll get it out of you. We've got nothing but time." Honestly, I can't even believe that I told him I enjoy singing. It's just something I like to do in my spare time to make myself feel better. I'll probably never do it again. "At least tell me your favorite song."

"Bye Bye Blackbird is my favorite."

"I'm going to remember that. I bet I can trick you into singing it for me." I laugh.

"Keep dreaming. But what about you and your interests? Let me guess." I pretend to really think it over, letting my fingers rest on my chin. "You like fine wines and fast cars."

"And how do you figure that?" he asks in a tone that tells me I'm completely right.

"You've just got that look."

"What look?"

"That sort of handsome, suave look that says you like nice things and impressing others."

"Well, there you've got it wrong. I only want to impress pretty women." I laugh again.

The guards bring us our small glasses of blood after that and I meekly try to sip it. I figure making it last longer might make me feel less hungry. It doesn't.

"What did you mean about 'company' earlier?" I ask, setting the glass on the floor beside me. "Surely, some other poor fool has been in here with you before me. Otherwise, you and I have made some pretty huge mistakes." He only shrugs. I let myself watch him lace his fingers together, showing off his own daylight ring.

"Yeah, there have been others but they never lasted. Besides, none of them were nearly as personable as you or as pretty." He cracks a smile at me. I don't miss that the other vampires that have been here are all dead but I choose not to dwell on it. I haven't cried the entire time I have been with the Augustines. I am not having that breakdown tonight.

"Oh, aren't you a tease. I bet you say that to all the girls." I shift to lying on my stomach. I'm still so exhausted that all I want to do is lay down.

"Well, I haven't had many opportunities to try my lines lately. You're the first Augustine girl in years that I know of." I feel my stomach drop. That's not what I want to hear.

"I'm not sure whether that's a good or a bad thing."

"Most likely, it's a little of both. On the bright side, you'll probably be the one fawned over at the New Year's cocktail party."

"The what?!" I exclaim, pushing myself up off the floor. It's hard to do and I notice Enzo looks fairly concerned that I'm not going to be able to get up. But I do get up. I just have to cling to the bars to stop myself from falling over. I've actually been cooperative lately so why they keep vervaining me is an utter mystery.

"Every year on New Year's Eve, we get out for the evening." I must look excited because the next thing Enzo says is, "Don't get your hopes up. We just trade these cages for a new one. The Augustines throw a cocktail party annually where they serve us up like a buffet to their guests."

"And you've never tried to escape? That'd be the opportune moment, wouldn't it?"

"It's a lot more complicated than you think, Nora. We have our wrists shackled and they only let us out one at a time. Besides that, they drug you so much you're not even sure how you got there. You can't do it when you're as weak as you are." I know he's right, even though I'm tempted to say that I could still manage to rip out his throat. Dr. Whitmore keeps me so frail even now that I can't imagine anything will change by the time New Year's Eve rolls around.

"There has to be a way out of here, Enzo. I can't accept that we're just going to be the Augustine Society's experiments until we lose our minds or they kill us." He gives me an understanding look but I already know there's nothing we can do. If there was any way out of this place, Enzo wouldn't be here now. "Maybe I'll just start thinking about it and make us a list."

The next few months leading up to New Year's Eve are the worst of my life. Every time I see Dr. Whitmore is worse than the last. He tries something new every day, which makes me believe his imagination is completely overactive. Then again, so is mine. Weeks ago, I decided I wasn't going to give Dr. Whitmore what he wanted from me; he wasn't going to see me feel that pain. So I stopped screaming. Now I just make myself look at the ceiling and think about killing him. It surprisingly works for my peace of mind but it doesn't help me in the torture arena. The fact that I harden up and pretend it's not completely and totally horrible only makes what happens to me worse. Dr. Whitmore has taken me to every limit imaginable and I have almost given in every single time. Luckily, I always hold it together until I am back in my cell.

If there's one thing I've learned while with the Augustines, it is that killing people is easy but making them suffer is an art. I've killed hundreds of times but at least I can say I didn't let them suffer. It was a bite to the neck and it was over. Sometimes I even compelled them to not feel anything. No, that doesn't make me anything close to a good person but it does make me a relative saint compared to Dr. Whitmore.

I ponder things like this a lot when I'm by myself or trying to sleep. I wish I could say that being here has made me rethink all the awful things I've done, made me feel guilty, made me regretful, but it hasn't. Even after all of the horrible torture I've endured, I've only cried twice (once was in the middle of the night after a particularly harsh session, the other happened one of the times Enzo volunteered to go in my place). I'm not sure what this says about me, except that I am exceptional at hiding my emotions because I have been close to an emotional breakdown since they first locked me in. It's probably not healthy to go about it like this but it's been working for me so far.

Enzo and I have only grown closer. Where at first I just liked him, I now adore him. I know if he wasn't here, I would've gone mad a long time ago. He has a talent for lightening the mood and making me feel better overall. For all his flirting and teasing, I am sure that Enzo is an undeniably good man. I imagine I'm not nearly as helpful to him, even though I try to be. Enzo has taken Dr. Whitmore's torture for me multiple times, managing to speak up before I can and talk over me when I protest. He doesn't resist yelling like I do, which makes it so much worse because I know he's taking it for me. He's never said but I know he thinks I'm too weak to endure it.

At any rate, I know that New Year's Eve is getting closer when we start receiving less blood and more vervain injections. By the night of the party, Enzo and I are almost too weak to talk. Our cells are opened simultaneously and guards make us change out of bloody clothes into clean ones. One thing I'll say for the Augustines is that they at least allow us wardrobe changes. I'm still fairly modest about it because I am totally braless. So really, things could be worse.

I'm barely able to get it on my own because my arms don't want to raise above my shoulders but I manage. I'm not letting those creeps near me. After a couple of minutes I'm dressed in a new white t-shirt and cargo pants. When I turn around, I look over at Enzo, who's still pulling on his shirt. I let myself look at him. It's hard to ignore just how attractive Enzo is. Being here hasn't diminished him as it has me.

I'm jolted from thinking this as Enzo turns around and a guard grabs hold of my wrists. I jump.

"You like what you see, blondie?" the guard asks, glancing between me and Enzo.

"Can't say I do," I respond, giving the guard a disapproving onceover. He locks manacles around my wrists and pushes hair out of my face. I jerk away. "In my day, a man had to ask before he touched a lady."

"Well, it's not your day anymore and you're no lady." Unfortunately, that's a pretty good point. "You're not supposed to look overly disheveled for the party."

"Why? Does it offend Dr. Whitmore's guests if we look like we've been tortured?"

"Say something else and I'll vervain you."

"Touch me again and I will snap your neck. Don't think I can't do it." I can't do anything of the sort and it's most likely obvious that I can't but I am banking on the fact that the guards are human and scared of me regardless. It seems I'm right but he gives me the dose of vervain anyway. I groan and my knees buckle.

We're dragged out of our cells and taken upstairs to a nice room. I try to remember it, though for what reason I am not sure. There are no guests here yet when we arrive but Enzo and I are already thrown into a cage towards the side of the room and then, we are left alone.

I quickly push the cuffs up my arms a little and reach my hands through the bars. I yank at the lock, even though I know it's futile. I'm far too frail to pull this door open. A human would have a better chance at cracking this lock than I do. "Damn it," I mutter.

"Don't waste your time," Enzo says from behind me. "The two of us together couldn't get this thing open." I nod. Stupidly, I've been looking forward to tonight though I was aware I would never be able to escape. We're weak from vervain and half-starved. Enzo and I don't have a chance of doing anything tonight that Dr. Whitmore doesn't want us to do.

I cover my face with my hands in utter defeat before dropping them. I knew this wouldn't work but some part of me had still been hoping it would. Regardless of any other circumstances, I have been completely sure that this cocktail party would be the best bet. These parties will be the only real opportunity for escape each year because it gets us both out of the basement.

"There'll be other chances. We'll just have to work on a plan," Enzo tells me as he puts his hand against my arm. I freeze before turning towards him. It suddenly occurs to me that this cage is small, probably because Enzo has been the only vampire showing up at these parties for years. I've known Enzo for almost a year and this is the closest I've ever been to him.

I wasn't lying when I told the guard earlier that men once had to ask before touching women. When I was still human, that was very much the case. As time went on, it moved from showing no open affection, to linking arms when you walked, to holding hands, to kissing in public. It's only been recently that people have become more public with their affections. At the time I didn't recognize it but there was something to the way simple touches were regarded back then. Nowadays, you hug someone, you kiss them on the cheek, you shake their hand and think nothing of it. But before I turned, the only contact I had with a man was when one would help me down the stairs. When I was younger, I didn't understand what the big deal was. There's nothing intimate about touching someone's hand, I thought. There's no reason to drive yourself mad after dancing with somebody. Being locked up and tortured daily has made me remember things like this.

When Enzo pulls his hand away from me, I finally understand what the big deal was. I don't know whether I've been so lacking in reassuring physical touch that this just sends me over the edge or whether being alone with Enzo for so long has created subconscious feelings for him. And I don't have feelings for people. I just don't. Maybe I'm not as thoroughly modern as I thought. Either way, it doesn't help me.

"What's going to happen?" I ask to focus on something else.

"Dr. Whitmore will take us out one at a time and do a demonstration on how our blood can heal humans. It's nothing to worry about, really. He'll just cut open your palm and drain a little. It'll be over with before you know it," he responds. Enzo doesn't seem as concerned about this as I am, which is reassuring. He's done this before, multiple times.

"All right." I look around the room again and catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror over the mantle. 'Disheveled' is an understatement for the way I look. My pale face is dirty and my dark blonde hair is verging on brown. It's frizzy, tangled, and wild. "I guess there was some truth to what he was talking about," I mumble, thinking about what the guard said downstairs. I attempt to smooth my hair down but it's pretty useless. "How come you don't look half as bad as I do?"

"I've just adapted to the dirt. You haven't yet." I laugh and try to wipe my face off. "I can help, you know," he says slyly.

"I'll take you up on that," I respond, looking over at him. "Can you braid hair? Because that would be exceptional."

"Do I look like I know how to braid hair?" I laugh again and shake my head. Instead he pushes my hair back and brushes dirt off my face. He looks at me intently the whole time, as though he can't figure out how I got to be so filthy.

"Am I hopeless?" I ask when he finishes.

"Not at all," he replies.

The party officially begins not long after that. The guests look at Enzo and I as though we are attractions at the zoo. I feel completely declawed. They don't look even remotely wary of us. Indeed, I think they doubt we could ever do something to hurt them. But with the state I'm in, I can't blame them. As the night goes on, I get weaker and more exhausted.

I am pulled out of the cage first and the door locks behind me. Dr. Whitmore positions me in front of a small table holding sherry glasses.

"This is 20574," Dr. Whitmore tells them, introducing me. "She's our first female in years and she's rather exceptional. High pain tolerance, incomparable blood, and immense strength." I don't resist as he grabs my hand and slits open my palm, letting my blood fill one of the small glasses. I'm put back in the cage with Enzo after that and I am glad of it. I think I'm about to fall asleep standing up. My worst fear is that I'm desiccating.

Enzo moves in front of me and I have to gaze over his shoulder to watch Dr. Whitmore's demonstration. A woman allowed him to cut her and then she drank the glass with my blood. The wound healed with no hint that it even occurred. They take Enzo next and do the same thing. He then returns to standing in front of me.

By the time the party has ended, I'm leaning against Enzo and the side of the cage to stay standing. I suppose this is why none of the humans here fear us. Maybe one day that'll come back and bite them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey! Thank you so much for the support I've gotten so far! I hope you all enjoy this chapter! Let me know what you think. I own nothing but Nora.**

The Augustines have communal showers, like they're some kind of university. They're the usual shorter stalls that allow you to see other people bathing beside you. At first, I loathed them but now I'm able to see they have their upsides.

Enzo and I are always taken to shower at the same time, probably because the Augustine Society is too lazy to take us individually. The guards don't stare us down, luckily. They're far too busy gossiping about things of no consequence but at least, they're helpful in knowing the year (which is early 1953). Mostly, the showers are just a cause for Enzo and I to joke around with each other.

"Do you sing in the shower, Nora?" Enzo asks slyly today. I laugh while rinsing my hair.

"Maybe I would if I were alone," I respond.

"One day, you will sing for me." He points at me over a tile wall.

"It's been four years and you still won't give this up," I say, leaning up against my own wall. It covers me to my shoulders.

"It's been four years and you still won't give _in,_" Enzo replies.

"I can't just do it on command. I'm not Bing Crosby." He only smirks.

"Well, are you a Fred Astaire? Singing _and _dancing? A jack of all trades?" I laugh.

"Oh please. Fred Astaire would balk at the sort of dancing I used to do."

"Oh, you did that stiff and boring dance where you aren't allowed to touch your partner." He leans back under the shower head and runs a hand through his hair.

"It was stiff and boring because us women were stuffed into corsets and couldn't breathe." I take the small bar of soap the Augustines allot us and try to rub it everywhere. I never feel like I can get clean enough.

"Well, what was the point of not touching? You needed to be demure?"

"I'm sure that was the intended idea but mostly, what it achieved was anticipation. You can look but not touch. It was maddening." I try to reach my back but decide I'm too fatigued.

"Some things haven't changed," he replies rather quietly. I manage to drop my bar of soap and it clatters to the ground.

"I'll say," I mutter, ducking down and grabbing the soap.

Four years is an awfully long time to be confined with only one other person. Sure, we see other people but they all work for the Augustine Society and they are all horrible. Enzo and I have spent years as each other's only friend and I think it's really beginning to take its toll on us.

Relying on and being friends with someone else is really unusual for me. Even when my maker was still living, I didn't let him get too close emotionally or physically. I knew how to take care of myself and that was all. I have never once considered taking in another person and having to worry about them too. But here in Augustine, with Enzo, it's as if I wasn't given a choice. We're thrust into adjacent cells, forced to know when the other is getting tortured, and spend almost entire days in only each other's company. Caring about one another was absolutely inevitable. I just didn't expect it to be this intense.

Long story short, I believe Enzo and I have developed feelings for each other. Enzo has always been a flirt but now it's different and I am completely aware of the changes that I've undergone. I'm guessing something about being tortured all the time has made me softer. I'm also guessing something about how pathetic I always look, vervain flowing through my blood, has caused Enzo to feel sorry for me.

Suddenly, the water shuts off and I hear Enzo groan. I lean up against the tile wall and exchange a look with Enzo as the guards come in. I call them One and Two because they've never revealed their names to us. Two's the one that has a thing for me. I still can't say I understand that because I'm under the impression that the Augustines thought of us as animals. They're not exactly wrong. At times, I'm not much better than one.

Two hands me a towel rather reluctantly while One tosses Enzo another a couple of shower stalls down. They never allow us to shower next to each other. I'm not sure what they think will happen. Perhaps they're scared if we get close enough, it'll be easier for us to take them down. Maybe they just think one thing would lead to another and we'd end up having sex on the floor. Don't they know we have some decency?

I grab the towel and barely take the time to dry off, still narrowly behind my tile wall. I yank the pile of clothes that Two has been holding out of his hands and get dressed quickly. Green cargo pants and a flimsy white t-shirt. The uniform never changes. The shirt sticks to my back and even my unfortunately braless front so I cross my arms when Two gestures at me to come out of the stall.

"One of these days I'll convince Dr. Whitmore to let me have a night with you," Two says before forcing shackles around my wrists.

"If there's one thing I've learned in my time on this earth, it's to be careful what you wish for," I reply, looking up at him. I wish I could compel him to kill the other guard and himself.

"I thought you people considered us animals," says Enzo. "I thought we disgusted you."

"_You_ do," the guard responds, reaching out and touching my hair. "_She_ doesn't."

"And they say chivalry is dead," I mutter, jerking out of reach.

"What'd you say?"

"She said she hopes you like it rough because she's more likely to kill you than kiss you," Enzo nearly snarls.

"Oh, I'm not scared of her."

"It sure seems like you are, the way you keep drugging me," I say. In response, Two grabs my arm and pulls me along. One does the same with Enzo.

We walk in single file back to the cells, Enzo and I wedged in the middle of the guards. We stop abruptly before reaching the basement and I halt to not slam into the guard in front of me. Enzo doesn't. He hits me and I know it is on purpose. His hands touch my back, as though it is accidental, and I close my eyes. Then we move on and Enzo and I are back in our cells.

I lay down and sip my little glass of blood, thinking about a couple of weeks ago, at New Year's Eve. I look forward to it each year, despite the fact that they weaken Enzo and I so much that we're forced to lean on each other for support. It is the only time we're allowed to be close though so I endure it with as much grace as I can muster (which is never enough). I had hugged Enzo this time, like I hadn't laid eyes on him in years. I was sure my force might have crushed a human.

Seems like I think about that a lot. Well, I've got nothing better to do than dwell on things I've done. Most of the time, I just wonder whether being with the Augustines is some penance for the life I've led so thinking about Enzo is a vast improvement.

"Does Whitmore have a favorite place on you?" Enzo says, dragging me out of my thoughts. We don't normally talk about what goes on upstairs. I don't know about him but I spend a lot of my time trying to forget what happens with Dr. Whitmore.

"My stomach," I respond. "It's just about the only part of me he's interested in nowadays. What about you?"

"The eyes." From the way he said it, I knew it was horrible. I could tell from the ghastly way he yells that he must endure more than I can even dream of.

"Huh. He's never done that to me. What's the point of that, do you think?"

"I suppose it's the healing, just like everything else."

"You'd think after all these years that he'd have what he wants from us. How many times can you cut someone open and remove part of their spleen? I did not live through the American Revolution to die on some Dr. Frankenstein's dissection table."

"Oh, you won't. You're far too tough for that." I smile and almost relax. I have a feeling that I will be on edge for the rest of my life.

Other than that and the sleazy guard, everything has been going smoothly for me (or as smoothly as it can in the Augustine Society). In fact, too smoothly. The only problem with it has been the fact that Enzo is taken by Dr. Whitmore far more often than I am. When I first got here, I thought nothing of it. Instead, I was grateful for the off-time. But now, I find it unfair. I'm not sure whether Dr. Whitmore favors Enzo because he is easier to crack or because he's more interesting to study than I am. I wouldn't put it past him to want Enzo only because he is male.

But then, it occurs to me that Enzo constantly volunteers for me. By the look Dr. Whitmore always has, he likes that. He likes that Enzo beats me to the punch because it makes him a more fascinating subject. Besides the fact that Enzo is gorgeous, well-built, and strong, he is obviously kind. That creates a thought-provoking problem for Dr. Whitmore, who clearly looks down on us. I act the way he expects all vampires to act. Enzo doesn't.

I assume that's part of the reason I've become so taken with him. There's been an awful lack of kindness in my long life. I'm not used to it. I've said many times that I've never really had friends, other than my sire and he was incredibly insensitive. He threw me out on my own to make me learn. He became angry whenever I didn't give him exactly what he wanted. With him, I felt like being a vampire was a curse, an excuse to be cruel to those who could not fight back. For what it's worth, I would have died without that guidance. I would have been careless, even stupid. I credit my sire with the mindset I have today. He is the reason I am strong but he is also much of the reason why I'm alone.

Enzo is nothing like that. Where I would protect myself before even thinking about others, Enzo would jump in front of them. He does it for me continuously and refuses to acknowledge it after the fact. I admire him for it but I also desperately want better for him. I want Enzo to have a chance at a life outside of this place. A vampire like me was always the intended victim of the Augustine Society, one that has been merciless and killed without a thought. If only one of us can get out of here, it has to be Enzo.

"20574," Dr. Whitmore says the next morning, "you look more energetic than usual." By "energetic," I assume he means that I'm not lying on the ground, almost knocked out. I'm just lying on the ground half-asleep today.

"I take that as an insult," Enzo interjects.

"Oh, you're such an attention hog," I mutter, pulling myself up by the bars. "I'm ready." I am barely standing but that won't matter so much when I'm strapped to the table. Besides, this is exactly the way Dr. Whitmore wants me. I'm too much of a "threat" otherwise.

"She's too weak for it, don't you think, Dr. Whitmore?" Enzo asks. Dr. Whitmore turns toward his cell, his interest peaked. "Let her sleep it off. I'm more fun than her anyway."

"Enzo," I choke out, "don't." But I am too late. Dr. Whitmore unlocks Enzo's cell and pulls him out. The guards shackle him and make him go in front of them and Dr. Whitmore. I close my eyes and groan. "Dr. Whitmore," I say. He turns back to me while the guards continue moving Enzo upstairs. "Dr. Whitmore, you can't do this. You know what he's doing. Stop taking him when he's just standing up for me."

"Maybe you should start speaking up," he responds and turns to leave.

"Wait," I murmur. "Just wait a second. I have a question about your research." I press myself against the bars, holding onto them with both hands.

"What question could you possibly have about my research?"

I respond before I have the chance to question it. "Why do you need two vampires?" He shakes his head with a laugh.

"Trying to save your own skin? I'm surprised you didn't try that sooner, 20574."

"I'm not talking about saving myself. You've said before I'm your first female in years. Don't you have enough male research?" I can tell I've finally said something that interested him. "You've had Enzo for a long time. Don't you know everything about him by now?" He laughs again, as though what I've said is the best joke he's heard in decades. "What the hell is so funny?"

"What's funny is that I thought I had you pegged, 20574, and now you've genuinely surprised me. To be honest, I've been under the impression this entire time that you had your emotions switched off." I raised my eyebrows. "Yes, I know you can do that. But I digress. I've just long thought that must be the case. You don't seem to feel any pain, you don't cry, you don't seem to have any weakness. In fact, you come across cold. You may threaten the guards but with me, you just take it. Now I don't know whether it's because you're passive or because you want me to think you're strong."

"I'm afraid I don't see the point to this."

"The point is that you aren't nearly as tough as you want me and your cellmate to believe." My grip tightens on the iron bars. "I wondered whether this would happen when I acquired you, whether the two subjects would become fond of each other. I knew 12144 took to you because he volunteers to take your place so often. But you never seem to react to that so I figured you were just gone, mentally."

"So this is a psychological experiment too for your own sick enjoyment? Why doesn't that surprise me?" I groan.

"Oh, don't try to change the subject. You don't want me to know you care about anything other than yourself and you really had me believing that. I thought _this_ girl may survive everything I put her through. But I'm glad you slipped up here. It makes you a far more interesting subject when I know what buttons to push."

"I don't know what you're implying. I thought you could just give the guy a break," I respond, trying my hardest to sound firm.

"Oh, 20574, you're far more intriguing than I anticipated. You've got a sensitive side and you just don't want to show it."

"I was under the impression you thought vampires were nothing more than mindless monsters, eager to kill whatever crosses their path. It doesn't sound like there's a sensitive side to that creature."

"Well, I've always heard that vampires feel things more fiercely than humans. That's why they have a humanity switch… because it's too much to bear."

"The humanity switch is a myth and I am growing tired of going in circles with you. I just wanted to offer a solution that would make life easier on you. You don't want to take it. That's fine." He laughs again.

"20574, you had best hope that you and 12144 especially, continue to serve a purpose here at Augustine because the minute either of you fail to interest me anymore, I will kill you." My face falls and I realize I haven't put up a very good façade this entire time. "I'm glad to know that you actually care about something. It will better help me break you."

I contemplate grabbing him through the bars but I'm positive I'm too weak to manage it. Dr. Whitmore clearly thinks he finally has something on me that will change the game. I want to think he's wrong. There's no possible way he can use friendship with Enzo against me. If he wanted to do something like that, he could've been using me against Enzo and quite frankly, the only way to do that would've been to have us tortured in front of each other. But what more could he do to us that he hasn't done already?

When he leaves, I shake the bars and groan in frustration. I don't know why this is getting to me. Break me, he'd said. Break me. What does that mean?

I hear Enzo begin to yell and I wince. Is it worse than usual or am I imagining that? "Damn it," I mutter. After I shake the bars again, I settle down onto the floor and put my hands over my face. They're quivering. I don't know what's happening to me. "Don't let this get to you, Nora," I tell myself. "Hold it together." I'm no longer sure whether I'm unnerved or just wildly angry. It's possible that it is both.

After a while, Enzo is returned to his cell. I push myself off the floor and look over at him eagerly. He's okay. Well, as okay as he usually is. There's blood everywhere but that's normal. His shirt's torn but again, nothing out of the ordinary. I audibly breathe a sigh of relief and the guards leave.

"I heard what you tried to protect me today," Enzo says, leaning up against a wall and gazing over at me. "Why would you do that?" I shrug as though it's no big deal.

"It wasn't to protect you. It's just common sense that the Augustines only need one vampire," I respond. I cross my arms, nails digging into my skin.

"Well, whatever it was, it wasn't smart," he tells me. I raise my eyebrows. "Whitmore thought you had flipped your humanity switch. It was probably better that way."

"I know but am I supposed to let you volunteer for me all the time with no payback?"

"Yes, you are."

"But I owe you," I say, almost quietly.

"No, you don't. I'm just trying to help you, do you some favors." He leaves it unsaid that he does this because I am weak and frail. I am doing it because… because why?

"All the time for four years?" I ask. "I just want to help you too."

"You've just made it harder on yourself, Nora. That's all I'm saying."

"How? Did Whitmore honestly put us down here together and expect us to not become friends?" He only shrugs. "Come on, Enzo. You've done so much for me and I've never thanked you so just consider this stupid slip-up me trying to repay you."

"Well, I'm flattered that you attempted to get me set free," he replies with a grin. "You must like me after all."

"Only a little."

Then we hear something. It is the distinct sound of a man screaming. I know it. I am accustomed to it. But it isn't Enzo, who I'm usually hearing. It's someone else. Enzo and I exchange a desperate look with one another. I cross my fingers that it's something finally ripping the Augustine Society to shreds but as it carries on, I come to the conclusion that it's another vampire. After four long years, another vampire finally joins the fray.

It isn't long before they bring him down. He's another good looking guy, dark-headed and pale. The guards push him into the cell beside Enzo. I watch him groan as he hits the ground.

"Pick yourself up, soldier," Enzo says. There's a small opening between his cell and the new guy's so he can see him. I watch the new vampire look through the small bars at Enzo and then over to me. "Name's Enzo and that's Nora."

"Damon," the new vampire responds and from that one word, I know that everything has changed.


End file.
